“Don’t be afraid of me!  I’m not an ogre, and I shan’t eat you!  You think me a disagreeable man—­well, so I am.  I’ve had enough in my life to make me disagreeable.  And”—­here he paused, passing his hand across his eyes with a worried and impatient gesture—­“I’ve had an unexpected blow just lately.  The doctors tell me that I have a mortal disease for which there is no remedy.  I may live on for several years, or I may die suddenly; it’s all a matter of care—­or chance.  I want to forget the sad news for a while if I can.  I’ve told Catherine, and I suppose I’ve added to her usual burden of vapours and melancholy—­so we’re a couple of miserable wretches.  It’s not very unselfish of us to ask you to come and join us under such circumstances—­”

As he spoke my mind suddenly made itself up.  I would go.  Why not?  A cruise on a magnificent steam yacht, replete with every comfort and luxury, was surely a fairly pleasant way of taking a holiday, even with two invalids for company.

“I’m sorry,” I said, as gently as I could—­“very sorry that you are ill.  Perhaps the doctors may be mistaken.  They are not always infallible.  Many of their doomed patients have recovered in spite of their verdict.  And—­as you and Miss Harland wish it so much—­I will certainly come.”

His frowning face lightened, and for a moment looked almost kind.

“That’s right!” he said—­“The fresh air and the sea will do you good.  As for ourselves, sickly people though we are, we shall not obtrude our ailments upon your attention.  At least I shall not.  Catherine may—­she has got into an unfortunate habit of talking about her aches and pains, and if her acquaintances have no aches and pains to discuss with her she is at a loss for conversation.  However, we shall do our best to make the time go easily with you.  There will be no other company on board—­except my private secretary and my attendant physician,—­both decent fellows who know their place and keep it.”

The hard look settled again in his eyes, and his ugly mouth closed firmly in its usual cruel line.  My subconscious dislike of him gave me a sharp thrust of regret that, after all, I had accepted his invitation.

“I was going to Scotland for a change,”—­I murmured, hesitatingly.

“Were you?  Then our plans coincide.  We join the yacht at Rothesay—­ you can meet us there.  I propose a cruise among the Western isles—­ the Hebrides—­and possibly on to Norway and its fjords.  What do you say?”

My heart thrilled with a sudden sense of expectant joy.  In my fancy I already saw the heather-crowned summits of the Highland hills, bathed in soft climbing mists of amethyst and rose,—­the lovely purple light that dances on the mountain lochs at the sinking of the sun,—­the exquisite beauty of wild moor and rocky foreland,—­and almost I was disposed to think this antipathetic millionaire an angel of blessing in disguise.

“It will be delightful!” I said, with real fervour—­“I shall love it!  I’m glad you are going to keep to northern seas.”